Precious Looks Through Master's Eyes
by Amrunofthesummercountry
Summary: In the gloom of Emyn Muil, Frodo is wracked by nightmares. Gollum confronts Sam. Sam begins to wonder just how much the Ring has overtaken his master. He is alone in a trio, the odd one out. And the Ring wants him gone.


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Precious Looks Through Master's Eyes

A/N: This is a little fic that came to me on a horribly nasty day. The air was very humid, but it was extremely cold; something I hadn't experienced before in recent memory. It left me with a very creepy feeling and as I sat there, trying to think of a good opener for the next chapter of one of my fics, I began thinking how Sam must have felt caught between Frodo and Gollum sometimes. I'd imagine it would not be too pleasant. One small note: I didn't write this with slash in mind, though a few of the last lines may seem that way. Gah, one of my few non-slash fics. ^_^

There's a few things to watch for in this fic: 

1. Gollum's pronoun usage. In the book, Tolkien says that using the pronoun "I" is usually a marker signifying that Gollum is telling the truth. 

2. Frodo's nightmare. I'll explain a bit more about this at the end of the fic. 

Thanks to everyone who reviews my fics; without you there's no way I could continue!!

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Precious Looks Through Master's Eyes

The air was thick with chilled humidity. It stuck to rock and flesh alike, causing rock to become slick and flesh to become goose-pimpled. The sky above was grayish white, sun blocked completely by thick, stagnant clouds. No wind stirred. Thunder rumbled ominously off in the distance, warning any foolhardy travelers of a storm's swift approach. Only one person heard it, curled against a face of stone. A cloak gray as the rainy sky was wrapped about his shoulders; a hood shrouded his solemn face. He shivered now, pierced by the cold, and looked beside him where his companion lay, also cloaked in gray, asleep, and clutching tightly at something strung round his neck on a silver chain. The air was heavy and cold as death over the two, but the sleeping one did not stir nor even shudder at the frigid air. Exhaustion had claimed him; he was far from the waking world.

Samwise Gamgee sighed tiredly and chafed his frozen hands. Frodo had been asleep for longer than he had intended to; indeed Sam was supposed to have woken him an hour earlier, but the gardener, knowing full well how the journey tolled on his master, hadn't the heart to rouse the ring bearer and instead stayed on watch himself. Sam gave up trying to warm his hands; nothing would thaw them until the gloom lifted from the area. At least it had stopped raining for the moment, a respite the gardener was glad for. 

Needing to get his blood flowing properly, Sam stood up to his feet and began pacing the area. Every now and then he would cast a glance at Frodo, but every time he did so Frodo was still fast asleep, still clutching the Ring. The gardener's frown deepened as his eyes followed the chain from his master's pale neck to where it disappeared into his frail hand. Samwise was suddenly painfully aware of how quiet it was. Nothing moved for miles. Gollum had disappeared again. They were alone. Sam stopped pacing and looked again at Frodo's clenched hand. It seemed a long time before the hobbit shook himself and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his gaze from the chain to the surrounding rocks, then to the sky, then to the ground; to anything except the chain that held the Ring. It was too quiet. He could hear it speaking, whispering. Did Frodo hear it all the time? Sam didn't doubt that he did. Shivering, not from the cold, Sam began pacing again, trying to make as much noise as he could. It was too quiet.

"Wonder where that Stinker got to," Sam whispered. His soft voice sounded booming in the silence. Thunder grumbled again but even that seemed horribly distant and did little to lessen the silence. Sam halted his step again. He wanted to holler and shout until he lost his voice but he knew it would only bring trouble. Still, he had to do _something_, anything to drown out the purr of the Ring. 

Moodily he sat down cross-legged and propped his chin up with his arm on his knee. Thinking hard he tried to remember the song the high elves had been singing in the Shire, on that long ago day when he and Frodo had set out. The Shire....Sam closed his eyes and tried to picture it: the rolling hills, the mill, the field past ready for the harvest, the garden of Bag End, the Party Tree, the Green Dragon Inn. He could almost see the green countryside of Hobbiton, could almost smell the flowers. If he concentrated very hard he could almost hear the song the fair folk were singing the first time he ever laid eyes on them. _*A Elbereth....*_

Frodo let out a sharp cry from his sleep. Sam's eyes snapped open and, even though he loved the high folk and all their splendor, he wished he had never laid eyes on them; not now that he knew that seeing them would set him on a journey way out into the wilderness with his dear master tormented by his.....burden.

Frodo cried out again and Sam's love for his master overwhelmed his fear of the Ring. He rushed to Frodo's side, ready to help banish whatever nightmare had seized him. The ring bearer laid curled up into himself as Sam approached, now clutching the Ring with both hands. As Sam laid a hand on his friend's forehead to sooth him Frodo's face contorted and he jerked violently away. His eyes flew open but Sam could tell by their glazed, expressionless appearance that he was still deeply asleep. This had happened before. Though it unsettled the stouthearted Gamgee it no longer terrified him.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam said softly, trying to gather the elder hobbit into his arms. "Mr. Frodo, me dear, you're havin' a bad dream."

Frodo stared unseeing and unmoving, save for the increased rapid rising and falling of his chest. Frustrated tears were beginning to burn the back of Sam's eyes. He knew he had to stop Frodo from panicking; he would hurt himself; but when Frodo got into these trances there was little Sam could do but hold him. So he did so. Now, normally the ring bearer would calm down after a time and fall back into normal sleep. This time, however, he grew more panicky, and a frightening fire, hateful and angry, lit behind his glazed eyes. Sam didn't like it.

"Mr. Frodo!" he called softly, shaking his master gently to wake him up a bit. "Mr. Frodo!"

With a sudden burst of vehemence on of Frodo's hands left the ring and clamped around Sam's arm. . Startled, Sam lowered Frodo back to the ground, thinking perhaps the elder hobbit needed space. But even once returned to his place on the ground Frodo did not let go. Sam tried pulling away but Frodo merely grasped the gardener's wrist. And try as he did Sam could not pull free. Not only was he afraid of accidentally hurting his master; Frodo seemed to have gained an unnatural strength. 

"Mr. Frodo," Sam pleaded, attempting to tug his wrist away. Frodo just tightened his grip, though his face no longer looked furiously angry; now it looked dreadfully afraid. Sam winced. It was beginning to hurt. "Mr. Frodo, wake up!! Please...."

Frodo was whimpering in his sleep again. He gave no sign that he heard anything Sam said. His grip tightened even more, like a vise. Where had this strength come from? He had been too weak to go very far just a few hours before. Sam tried to wrest his hand away in a panic. His wrist was beginning to throb; his fingers tingled.

"Mr. Frodo, please! Let go! You're hurtin' me..." Sam begged. His heart pounded. He felt as if his arm would break. He was terrified now; why wouldn't Frodo wake up!? 

"Frodo-" Sam began again. Then like water from a jug all the fight drained from the ring bearer. His hand released Sam and his eyes closed. After a minute his breathing returned to normal. Frodo was at relative peace again. He had not woken up through the entire ordeal.

Sam stared at his companion's form. His wrist still pounded angrily. He felt ill, very ill. Quickly he stood and bent over, taking in long slow breaths to calm his stunned nerves. Frodo had not meant to hurt him, Sam knew. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't meant to.....hadn't meant to.......

A sob rose up to Sam's throat; he clamped his mouth shut, refusing to let the cry escape. He had to remain strong. He had to be strong for his master, for the quest, for....

Several tears broke free, Sam wiped them away frustratedly. How long could he go on like this? He was tired, so tired, and all he wanted was to go home with Frodo and live in peace. Sniffling, Sam straightening up and looked to the east. The mountain of fire seemed so far away and everyday Frodo slowed more and more under the Ring's power. Sam shuddered as he remembered the look of anger in Frodo's unseeing eyes and his otherworldly strength. It was the Ring that had caused the fit, Sam knew. It had to have been. The Ring caused everything, controlled everything, or tried to anyway. It was the Ring that caused the ring bearer's nightmares, his anguish, his pain. If he no longer carried the Ring he could heal, regain his strength to-

Sam covered his ears, knowing what was putting those thoughts into his head. It had tried personal gain before, now it dangled Frodo's well being before Sam. Well, Samwise Gamgee would be dead before he listened to a thing IT said, no matter how much he wanted to relieve Frodo's pain. 

"Why does it cry?"

Sam jumped a mile and spun around at the sound of this new, and unfortunately familiar, voice. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon Gollum. The scrawny creature was back; he'd snuck up behind Sam soundlessly, crawling along the ground like a spider. His thin face screwed up into a crooked grin as Sam glared at him.

"Why does it cry? We wonders, yes we wonders," Gollum hissed, circling around to Sam's left. The hobbit turned to face him, not wanting the creature at his back. 

"Where've you been to, Stinker? You've been gone for hours..."Sam trailed off. Gollum stared at him like he was trying to look right through him. That queer green light crept into the gangly ex-hobbit's eyes. The look reminded Sam of the look Frodo had gotten during his fit. Samwise swallowed heavily, trying not to show his uneasiness. Gollum's grin grew. He knew exactly how Sam felt. It pleased him. 

"Master Samwise is frightened," the ex-hobbit said smugly as if he'd just learned a delicious new secret. "Maybe he hears the precious calling, yes. It calls to us all, it does."

"What do you mean? I don't hear anything." It wasn't a complete lie; the ring had ceased its whispering as soon as Gollum had reappeared. It preferred to work in private. Gollum laughed and began pacing on all fours like a caged animal, reminding Sam eerily of what he himself had been doing not even half an hour earlier. 

"Silly hobbit, of course it doesn't hear anything now. Precious only calls to one at a time; its a tricksy thing, yessss..... It calls to Master while he wakes, all the time he hears it, just as good Smeagol does. While Master sleeps sometimes it sings to us, only to us, just as it did long ago in the deep dark earthhhh." At that Gollum scooped up what gravel he could and let it cascaded through his gnarled fingers. The way he was speaking made Sam's skin crawl. He went to his pack and began rummaging through it, hoping to ignore the hissing being. 

Gollum, however, was not finished speaking. He crawled up alongside Samwise and peered over his shoulder. "And now Master is asleep and we goes off to finds nice fishes for us to eat..."

"Did you?" Sam asked shortly, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere. "Find any, I mean." 

Gollum licked his lips. His eyes glowed like fireflies. "No, no fissh, no nothing for miles around. Miles and miles of rockses. Only shadows live in Emyn Muil." He grinned knowingly like he somehow knew something Sam didn't. Sam shot the ex-hobbit a glare that could have killed a water snake then forced himself to stare into the depths of his pack as if he was searching for something important. Scuffling sounds told him that Gollum had scrambled over to his right side. 

"I haven't nothing in here you can eat, so quit lookin'. Unless you'd like another try at lembas.." Sam suggested mockingly. 

Gollum hissed in disgust at the mention of the elvish waybread and fell back a step. Sam could feel the creature watching him, burning holes in his back with its eyes. Tense and becoming frustrated the gardener grabbed the rope of Lothlorien and pulled it out. Behind him Gollum hissed again and scuttled backwards even further. 

"Master promised us!" He protested in a harsh whisper. "Master promised!"

Sam smiled slightly, pleased with the effect the rope had on Gollum, then closed his pack and settled himself against the cliff face once again, rope in lap. 

"Its not for you. I don't like you, not for anything, but Master did promise you and I won't be breakin' his word," Sam said, beginning to practice his knots. *For now* he added to himself.

Unconvinced, Gollum drew his legs up and glared at his irritated companion. His luminescent eyes watched closely as Sam threaded the "hateful" rope through his fingers over and over until he'd made a perfect, tight knot. Annoyed (this reminded him far too much of the rope being around his ankle and burning), the starved creature made a displeased noise. Sam ignored him and set to undoing the knot he'd just created, wincing slightly as his bruised wrist protested all the movement. Gollum's eyes caught the grimace, small though it was, and rocked back so he was sitting on his haunches. His eyes darted across the area once....twice....then he lifted his hand and began drawing tiny circles on his palm with his index finger.

"Precious rocks master in his sleep," Gollum said slowly and softly, speaking mostly to himself and staring intently at the invisible circles he was drawing. "Precious always sings its lullaby. It knows the ones master likes; it knows the ones master needs. Precious sleeps to us too, yes it does, much. Much...."

Sam refused to look at the mumbling creature. Over, under, around, through, over the rope; Sam's eyes followed it. He tried to think of the people who had made it, in golden Lothlorien. The Lady herself had woven it, perhaps...

"Master Samwise doesn't know." Gollum remained focused on his palm but had Sam decided to look at him he would have seen the green glow in the creature's eyes intensify for the briefest of seconds. "Master Samwise sleeps while Master watches. So trusting he is, yes precious, so trusting. He calls good Smeagol 'Stinker', calls him names, but there's no cruel names for master. Hobbit trusts master so much."

Lothlorien seemed so far away. Sam's mouth suddenly felt dry. He swallowed, but it did little good. He told himself to ignore Gollum's nonsense, but a stone of unease had settled in his stomach that grew with every scratchy word. Sam glanced at Frodo. The ring bearer still slept with his back to Gollum and Sam, side rising and falling with his breath. Sam almost wished he would wake up so they could continue along and not have to listen to Gollum's inane ramblings.

"But _I've_ seen Master's faces." Gollum suddenly stopped drawing circles and now raised his eyes to meet Sam's. Despite himself Sam felt his heart pound and his blood chill. His grip on the rope tightened. 

"_I've _seen how Master glares. _I've_ seen how master looks while cross-hobbit sleeps." Here the ex-hobbit paused and ever so slowly turned his head to look at Frodo's prone body. Sam followed Gollum's gaze, just as slowly. He felt the creature was baiting him in a way, but how he did not know. Then Gollum turned to look back at the gardener and again met his eyes. 

"Precious looks out through Master's eyeses." 

Sam could take no more. "Stop it!" he said not too softly. Angry ad upset he rose to his feet. "I don't want to hear none of your lies! Go dig into some hole, or sleep under a rock, or somethin'. Just get out of my sight!"

Gollum back peddled several paces, the smug look falling from his face a little, expecting the enraged hobbit to come after him. Who knows what may have happened had Frodo not stirred at that moment. The ring bearer turned over then opened his eyes blearily, trying to make out the two opposing figures in front of him. 

"Sam?" he muttered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, releasing the Ring from his cramped fingers at last. Sam looked at him with relief. 

Gollum's demeanor changed quickly. "Master is awake!" he declared and trotted over to Frodo like an expectant puppy. 

"Yes, I am awake, Smeagol. Have you rested?" Frodo asked then looked over to Sam without waiting for much of an answer. "Why didn't you wake me, Sam? What is the time?"

"The sun sets, far away under clouds," Gollum said before Sam could speak. "Time for nice hobbitses to follow good Smeagol again, yes?"

"Dusk already?" Frodo said as he rose to his feet. "Why, I've slept the day away! I hope you rested, dear Sam. You should have roused me, though I cannot say I grudge the extra sleep." 

Sam was quiet as he studied his master. Any trace of the madness that had seized Frodo in his dreams had vanished. It was as if the fit had never occurred. Had it not been for the bruise encircling his wrist, Sam would have thought that he had been the one dreaming it all. Well, it was better that Frodo didn't know at any rate. Why cause him more anguish? 

So Sam forced a wan smile and tucked the rope back into his pack, pulling his sleeve over his bruised skin in the process. Yes, if Frodo didn't remember then it was all for the better. 

"I've had a bit of rest, sir," Sam said a bit falsely. True, he had not slept, but he had sat quietly for a while. Accepting this with a nod Frodo knelt and gathered up his own pack. 

"Well Smeagol, lead the way," the ring bearer said almost cheerfully. Smeagol lead the way as told and Frodo followed. Sam followed Frodo at a distance, becoming lost in his own thoughts. All that night Gollum's words rang in Sam's ears. 

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"Precious looks out through Master's eyes....."

The angry light in Frodo's glazed eyes...

The pale green glow in Gollum's 

Frodo's strength, grasping Sam's wrist....

Gollum's unnaturally strong but thin arms pinning Sam's arms to his sides....

So unalike, completely different were Frodo and Gollum. Frodo was good and kind while Gollum was a creep, sneaking and dark souled. They were so different........and yet.....and yet..

"I'll take the first watch this time, Sam," Frodo said, flinging his pack to the ground at last. They'd walked through the night and their sun-shy guide had decided that it was time to take a break. Frodo looked over at his friend and his eyebrows knitted in confusion; were those tears in his loyal Sam's eyes?

"Sam?" Frodo questioned, stepping over his backpack to lay a concerned hand on his friend's shoulder. Sam lay a brown hand over Frodo's pale one and their eyes met briefly, but them Sam looked away.

"Wake me when you start to nod, sir," the gardener said far more strongly than he felt. Frodo pursed his lips with confusion but let it go, deciding his companion was over tired and said only "Sleep well, Sam." 

Sam lay in the dark, staring off into space. Gollum had gone off again. Frodo sat off to the side, awake and keeping watch. Sam knew he should sleep. Truth be told he was exhausted; all the life felt drained from his body. He tried to force himself to sleep. Gollum had been speaking nonsense; he'd just been trying to evoke fear. He was trying to force Frodo and Sam apart. It wasn't true. How could it be true? Frodo was still Frodo, Ring or no Ring. 

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A light lit behind those eyes, an angry hateful light.....

"Precious peers through Master's eyes....."

Sam forced his eyes to close. Deep down he knew. Frodo was not the same, nor would he likely ever be again. A heartbroken tear slipped out of his closed eye. He hated the Ring, hated what it did, what it stood for. He loved Frodo more than life, more than the Shire, more than elves or dragons....surely there was still a chance the Frodo of the old days could return, even if it was the smallest of chances. 

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His hand curled tightly around Sam's wrist, squeezing tighter and tighter....

"Precious looks through Master's eyes......so trusting the hobbit is...so trusting of Master....."

Sam found no sleep that day.

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A/N: Eep. That was certainly different from what I normally write. About Frodo's dream: This is an actual sleep disorder. One of my best friends has something informally called "night terrors." They're normally brought on by some sort of trauma in the past. When a person has a "night terror" they can sit straight up and scream at you and yet be completely asleep. Their eyes may be open but they're fast asleep and normally don't remember anything about it when they wake up. Its a little like sleep walking, in a way. The worst possible thing you can do when a person is having one of these fits is to restrain them or wake them up. The best that will happen is they'll wake up and be so confused they continue to attack you, but more often then not the person will just fight you even more. My friend had a fit one night when I was staying at her house and believe me, its not a fun sight. 

This fic has depressed me.......next time I will write something more upbeat. Cheers!


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